Casino Royale - A Crest of Hope
by Monsieur Rapace
Summary: What if the world's most famous secret agent adventures were actually lived by the digidestined? T.K is one of MI6 best agents who's rebellion puts him on thin ice. However he'll accept a mission that will change forever his future, bring his haunting past and shake his present.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own neither James Bond or Digimon. This story is purely ficticious in what would be a version of Casino Royale with our digidestined as protagonists. It's purely entertainment, please enjoy!**

* * *

Marc Cooper did his normal walk to his office. It was half past 1 AM. The streets of Budapest had been empty since one hour ago, especially in that neighborhood were there were mostly business buildings. His office was on the Szerégy Tower. He got out of the lift and walked through the carpeted path. There was no one in the corridors, louder than the silence only his steps. He opened his door and saw a man sitting at his chair, next to the shelf. Anderson hissed. He knew exactly what was happening, better than anyone he knew his sins. He heard a click and knew there was a gun pointed at him and lurking in the shadows. Marc smirked.

"How's M going?" he asked as he walked to his secretary. The window permitted some illumination form the lights of the city. The tip of the gun, decorated with a silencer showed itself whilst sticking out of the shadows. Anderson sat at his chair desk with a relaxed pose. Both men knew that none of them was actually relaxed. Just one of them would get out of that room alive. He stretched his fingers and was able to open a drawer, as it slid silently Marc saw the gun waiting for him.

"You've been a bad boy, Mr. Cooper" the intruder said. "You knew this was coming eventually."

Anderson took a look at his killer, A young blond man with deep blue icy eyes, who had no problem in handing that gun.

"How did you got to me; that is a story I'd like to hear."

"You left some loose ends…like your contact in Prague, for an example."

"What happened to Marcel?"

"Let's say he's the first 0" the blonde man coldly said.

"If I ever got to become chief of the department, I guarantee you that I would never allow the double 0 program."

"But you are not the chief of the department, so that makes things rough on your side".

Marc's hand quickly picked the gun. He could be old but the moves were still there, just like ridding the bike. His feet kicked the table and the office chair rolled back against the window. The gun was pointed at his killer, and Marc didn't think twice before pulling the damn trigger. The clicking sound echoed through the room, but no bullet was shot. The blonde men smiled. In his hand something twirled, it was the gun's charger.

"We never actually got a chance to know each other, Mr.…"

"Well, I know where you keep your gun. We don't need to meet".

"Maybe we did. Maybe I could tell what takes a man to betray his country. For an example, how you're treated…"

"Sins are sins! You don't have an excuse apart from gluttony" his killer said. Marc spared some seconds. There was some chance that telling the truth, telling how MI6 had treated him could save him.

"You should no…" Marc continued, he replaced his chair and positioned himself at the desk like the gun pointed to him had no impact whatsoever. "It comes to a time that…" Everything went blank for him. A bullet cracked up his skull between the eyes, his corpse fell from the chair and hit the floor.

"I 'm sorry, I don't like small talk".

You know his name...


	2. A double 00 is born

**This is teh second chapter. I just want you to know that I'm opened to any kind of suggestion: feel free to say whathever you want about each digidestined and their role.**

 _Somewhere in Algarve, in a quiet villa_

The man typed continuously without looking at his surroundings. He was losing a beautiful sight: the grassed path ended up on a sandy rock cliff, and a crystal clear sea extended until the horizon mixed with the salmon sky of a dawning sun. The waitress came in the suite's private garden and served him the sparkling water; He murmured something and kept on writing. The spiked brown haired man took a sip of his water; it had a suave taste of lemon. The laptop was heating his legs, so he carefully placed on the little circular table, paying attention to the glass of water. The computer's connection lined him to the MI6 headquarters. On the screen an e-mail was being written to Chad Tanner- the MI6 supreme head chief. In it, it could be read: **"Takeru Tashikawa: 00 status confirmed .Seventh attribution."** When the e-mail was done, like M had told him to, he sent it. He closed the laptop and saw him: the man of the moment. Dressing a blue shirt, white pants and sandals T.K was walking towards him. He removed his sunglasses and took a sip of water.

"Congratulations" said the Tai. "Get a chair from the big table under the umbrella"

T.K did so and sat with him.

"Not everybody is that trusted "Tai continued.

"You are. Plus you didn't have to kill anyone."

"I'm a rather peculiar case, T.K. M is happy with the situation he decided to brief you with a middle risk mission" Tai continued. T.K took another sip from the glass. He sat more comfortably and removed the flip-flops. The green grass ran through his toes and feet with a ticklish sensation.

"I can take more than middle risk".

"M wants you to do it, and you'll have to take a partner with you".

"A partner?!" T.K sounded rather annoyed. "I work so much better alone. I don't like to play babysitter".

"M thinks that too, he however wants you to learn more social skills".

"Shouldn't I have learned before getting a double 0 status?"

Tai sighed.

"Yes, you should. I agree with you I can't also understand it, but rules are rules. And this game is all about rules, you know it."

T.K smirked and whispered.

"You know very well that there are no rules in this game"

"That was actually my sparkling water" Tai denoted. T.K drank the rest of it with just in a gulp and placed it in the table. Meanwhile Tai had opened his bag and removed a grey file; he tossed it on the laptop. T.K picked it up and opened it. The picture of a black man with burned bruises on his left side of the face caught his attention. It was clipped to the rest of the files: like always, lines and lines, all simply written without any thesaurus like prepotency. Clear information on what he was supposed to do. T.K felt a touch in his stomach, he hopped it wasn't another hit job.

"Who's this man?"

"Joseph Ngero Mollaka" he said. T.K knew that probably Tai had already knew the file, from the beginning till the end. "That's how everyone calls him: Mollaka. He's been on Interpol and MI6 list of possible threats. We knew he was linked to many terrorist associations, but now we know why?"

"He sells candies to them?" T.K said looking at the picture on his hand.

"Exactly! Terrible candies, I'd say. His bomb-making skills are searched for some terrorist associations. We traced his calls and learned that he was staying in Madagascar, his motherland, and would be meeting someone interested for the job. Meanwhile he changed his phone, and we lost him."

T.K snapped his tongue.

"Go to Madagascar and find out who's he meeting and what for?"

"If possible catch him and bring him to interrogatory! Alive, please!" Tai scolded.

"Alive?!" T.K sounded amused. "MI6 could also start a mediumship department and talk to the spirits and shit. It would be easier to us though."

Tai couldn't resist but chuckle. He remembered he once had the opportunity to become someone like T.K. But decided to stay behind a desk most of the time and be M's sidekick on the department's counseling and management. He looked upon T.K with some fascination, even if his pride got hurt while admitting that. Sometimes, when behind a desk at a monotonous rainy day in London, he wondered if he had made the right choice. But he knew he did: he had parents, siblings, and lots of friends. Sadly he knew T.K was an orphan, there wasn't much for the blonde to live for. He had discovered it while peeking at the agents' files.

"Who'll accompany me?"

"Davis" Tai answered.

T.K nodded gently and didn't look annoyed or mad at the choice.

"He has spent some time out of the field, so be gentle with him."

"I will" he smirked.

"Don't blow this up, please" Tai said. His correspondent gave him a frowned forehead and a confused gaze. What did he meant with don't' blow this up? Tai tapped on his laptop.

"Are you ready,007?"


	3. Madagascar

**This chapter was too big and I had to cut it in two!**

 **Hope you guys enjoy it.**

The boarding house was nothing but a filthy room behind a restaurant kitchen. T.K remembered the times when the MI6 was much more elegant, even at the end of the damn World. At the kitchen there were lobsters and shrimps being prepared. The salty scent of the freshly seafood invaded that little space. There was one squeaky bed, a little bathroom that only had a sink and a toilet and a window to the sea. T.K's Adidas sport bag was on the bed, it was unzipped and he took some clothes to wear. The door opened and a spiky haired man got in.

"T.K,I didn't need to see that!" he said covering his eyes.

"Deep down you wanted it, didn't you?" the blonde smirked covering his personal parts with the grey boxers. "The shower is terrible, only cold water."

"We didn't come in vacation, did we?" asked Davis. He got a business man's brief under the stinky bed and opened it, revealing to be some sort of computer, with a phone charger, a keyboard and a screen with the little picture of a green satellite pulsating. Davis took a satellite phone out of his pocket and checked the incoming messages.

"M must give us the information in a while" Davis whispered.

"What if he doesn't?" T.K asked whilst putting on an tasteless Hawaiian shirt.

"What?"

"What if M doesn't brief you or doesn't tell you what to do?"

"You don't move…"

"And loose the State's enemies? Where's the patriotism in that?"

"T.K, if they don't give you an order you can't act" Davis said firmly. He knew that T.K had gained a different reputation then what he used to have. Davis remembered him in the training days. Part of that time was shared with him. He recalled T.K as a friend, and being and excellent trainee. He wasn't, however, bright nor phenomenal, just like all of them. MI6 was a tough crowd to impress. Even in his last missions, before getting shot and forced to work behind a boring desk, Davis remembered a rookie T.K whose last move wouldn't happen without permission. Somewhere in time he became bolder and icier. For moments, Davis wondered what had happened, if something had happened.

"All those months behind a desk made you softer, Davis" the blonde replied. He put his hands in the Adidas bag and retrieved a black revolver. He blinked an eye to Davis and placed the weapon behind his back.

"What if they don't give us permission?"

"You improvise" he answered.

The phone on Davis' hand vibrated. The tome had a little rectangular greenish screen where Davis read: " NOKIA 320 – 234KL09".

"What does it say?"

Davis stretched his arm and gave him the object. T.K had puzzled look.

"It's a register number" Davis said typing on the small keyboard. "All those years behind a desk thought me some technology. Didn't you pay attention to Q's explanations?"

T.K mumbled something before tossing the phone on the bed. Davis had an arrogant smile for a while. Maybe he shouldn't feel as less helpful as he was feeling.

"The computer will register the number and track in a…"

"15 miles range, I did pay attention, Davis" T.K said sounding bored.

"Great…"

Davis pressed the Enter key and waited some seconds. The result appeared as coordinates. Davis pressed Enter again and a map appeared with a dot pinpointing their targets location. On the picture it appeared an empty football field, Davis zoomed out and localized themselves.

"Right under our noses" he commented.

The sun was brighter than they expected. It wasn't hot like the normal for a Madagascar's summer. There was a gentile sea breeze blowing up. Davis and T.K walked in the main roads, two white foreigners in the middle of the cramped streets in the slums would have called more commotion than an elephant on a china store. They localized the little football field – it was full of people. Upon further inspection they saw a frenetic mob circling something. All the men seemed excited and had money on their hands. It was perfect – both could infiltrate the mob. So much emotion would blind people's eyes.

"Street fights I bet" T.K said, both were behind a truck. Davis opened a sac from where he took his sunglasses,, he put them on and slid two fingers inside it again. He retrieved two small objects that resembled elderly hearing aid equipments. He clicked and a light blue flashed.

"Let's separate?" he asked T.K handing him his auricular. The blonde looked at his surroundings. Near the football field there was a burnt house whose roof had disappeared.

"Yes! I'll get a nest, you'll be the eagle".

Davis infiltrated the mob. He was in the between men of all skins and ages. They just had one thing in common, all sweated and stinked, like him probably. His nostrils got used to the men stench in a snap, as he was obligated to slide between their bodies has he roamed the mob. T.K in another hand, received some looks from the scared eyes of drugging teens. They were concealed in the ashes and dark walls of the burnt house, those skinny teenagers likely thought that the blonde man was a cop or a dealer. The agent looked at them coldly, deep inside he fell his heart shrieking. Part of the first floor had collapsed. T.K climbed that ramp and got in the first floor, or what remained: a little square with one wall on the left side and burn wood spread on the floor. Two man smoking heroin stopped and looked at him, he took a finger to his mouth mimicking silence and they got the message. He walked and leaned to the wall. He had a clear view of the football field. His theory wasn't that right, in the middle of the mob a king cobra and a mongoose were fighting for entertainment. His hawk eyes focused on Davis.

"I'm in position, have you found him?" he spoke.

In the middle of the enthusiastic mob Davis took a hand to his ear.

"What?"

"Take your hands of your ear" he reprimanded.

Davis did it and reported negatively. T.K analyzed the people and quickly found Molaka, not very far from him.

"Got him" he spoke. "Burnt face and arm, black, green shirt over red sweater. Not far from you".

It was impossible for Davis however. The sweaty men were shouting like mad, pushing him around. He fell down the concrete steps and shoved a man that screamed something in an angry French. Finally, Davis caught a glimpse of the man. He wasn't farther than 2 meters.

"Approach him and tell him there was a change of plans" T.K spoke controlling the situation.

"Ok…"

"Before he receives a message from his contacts" T.K said.

"What?!"

Davis took his hand to the head again. Mollaka's phone vibrated and he picked it up. On his Nokia's screen he read the message of the Organisation.

"Take the hand out of the head" he reprimanded again. Davis did so, but when he looked up Molaka was looking right in his eyes.

"Hands down! He got you"

Davis put his hand even higher and started combing his rebellious hair. Molaka tilted his head like a bird, still gazing at him. He wasn't that stupid. Before Davis or T.K could say something, he jumped in the middle of the fight. Molaka's feet landed right between the snarling mongoose and the poisonous fangs of the cobra. He kept running throughout the mob and got out.

"Shit!" Davis shouted. He tried to do the same his prey did, but his feet failed and he ended up falling to the ground, taking three sweaty men to the ground with him. T.K cursed his luck as he saw Molaka running away, but his path was about to cross the burnt house. The blonde forgot about Davis: after all, he had screwed it all, at least he'd have the decency of getting out of trouble alone. Plus, Molaka couldn't be lost at any circumstances! He took his gun behind the back and ran through the house, slid the fallen roof and got out of the house like a bolt. The drugged teens couldn't actually tell if they saw what they saw, or were just high.

T.K saw Molaka running away a few meters in front of him. They were both descending the snaking around the slum's houses. Molaka made a turn and entered a marketing area he parkoured over a mobile cart with caged chicken that contested scarily. T.K almost tackled it. They kept running dodging people on the street doing their simple life, selling fruit, band aids or counter fake purses. After another turn up a hill, at some point, Molaka looked back and T.K only had the time to toss himself inside a house whose door was fortunately opened. He landed in the ground and an elderly woman was confused looking at him.

"Qu'est ce que c'est ça?"

"Pardon!" he apologized after getting up. Molaka could not see him. He already knew there were people behind him and had seen Davis' face, but not his, at least yet. His target was nowhere to be seen in the street, T.K rapidly ran until the end: the left part was a dead end, the other linked to the main road. T.K ran to the dead end, and jumped the wood fence that cut the road. On the other side it was someone's little dirty yard. He did the same again, and again, until he reached another road and there he was. Molaka was slowing down, he past next to kids riding old rusty bikes and stopped near a tall and exotic mango tree, where he gasped some air. T.K hid behind the walls of a pink house. He peeped and saw Molaka on the phone with someone. He nodded and turned it off, looked to both sides making sure he wasn't being followed and crossed the road.

T.K picked up his phone and texted Davis' safe line number: "He's heading to the meeting. Goin' in"


	4. Mollaka's secrets

**Here's part II**

T.K followed Molaka to an abandoned warehouse. The construction was actually situated between residential homes and had a decaying roof with a big hole in it. T.K sneaked and got near the door where Molaka had entered. He was afraid to peak, but saw a split on the wall and looked through it. He saw Molaka walking towards two men dressed in suits: one of them was particularly interesting- he wasn't a goon, he was rather slim, he was in his fifties, and despite the light tan he had Scandinavian trait. There was a table where a metal brief case laid. Molaka put his backpack on the table and began speaking with the man. T.K pulled out his phone and started recording the sound; he placed it against the split. Although he could not hear incomprehensible words he had hope the phone would catch something.

"Caugth you!" said a voice.

T.K pointed startled his gun at the source. It was a gasping Davis. He hold a finger against his mouth. Davis quieted and drew his gun out.

"Are you recording?"

"Yeah" the blond man coldly answered. They waited there; T.K leaned against the wall and stopped watching them for a while. He heard some steps and when he looked, the bulkiest man was walking towards the entrance. He was coming to see if someone was outside, Davis' feet must have been heard inside, certainly. The man's head peeped out of the door. He looked left, and the right: he found T.K and Davis looking back at him. Before he could do something, T.K shot him in the head.

"Christ!"Davis slipped.

T.K took put the phone in his pocket, step into the entrance and shot inside the warehouse. Molaka ducked and hid under the table. The other man started shouting something, and another goon appeared from behind a pillar. His revolver shot at T.K . Both men and Davis started a fire. The Scandinavian looking man grabbed his brief case and ran away from a door. Molaka on the other hand threw something against a window and jumped out of it parkour style. Davis screamed behind him and took his hand to the shoulder as blood poured from it.

"Damn it!" Davis cried.

Once again, T.K couldn't do much. Davis shot the man down and sat on the floor. He'll track me again, though T.K. The blonde ran, jumped on the table and used it as a jumping net to jump through the window. He was racing behind Molaka again. A black Mercedes passed in front of him in the road, the Organisation was retreating. But Molaka was a safer target, T.K didn't know how many men they had more in the field and how they would react if he went right after the big fish.

Mollaka escaped jumping on cars and fences, just to slow down his predator. He crossed a grass field by a large construction site. He got back in the streets and this time he pushed a kid of his bike and mounted it. Molaka pedalled the road leaving T.K behind. The agent stopped and analyzed were his prey was going. At the end of the street there were many more elegant houses: it was an embassy district. The road made a curve left and T.K returned to the grass field. Molaka was going as fast as his tired legs let him. He made a curve to the left and passed a bunch of fancy buildings: Embassy of Nigeria, Embassy of Mozambique, Embassy of Angola...He was hoping for the plaque that had: Embassy of Zimbabwe, his homeland. He spotted it; it was an older complex than the other houses and had a much more industrial look. His freedom was just meters away. His luck was struck by a lightning, and just like a thunder he heard screaming and a loud noise coming from the construction site. When he looked behind a bulldozer blasted a fence and was now on the road, after him. Molaka looked back again in terror to see a blonde man o n the seat. The Embassy finally came around the corner, Molaka rode past a jeep and entered the gates. He stopped at the wall and got out of the bike, leaving it unattended. A guard came running in his direction wanting some explanations. Before he could say anything the bulldozer raged the gates and kept going. T.K had no idea how to break and just jumped out of the vehicle, watching it crash in the wall and destroying the wall. He went after Molaka. The man entered the building. Ran past many offices that people were exiting, scared by the crash. A pair of military however followed them. Molaka entered the office of someone important; it was a general that upon seeing them drew a gun out of his pocket. T.K punched Molaka that fell on a chair. He run towards the general and punched him in the gut, the man gave a step back. T.K grabbed his hand to remove the weapon but the two military appeared, he used the gun to shot them both and proceeded in elbowing the general's face. Molaka tried to escape but T.K relentlessly tackled him against a wall. Molaka punched him in the face. The metal taste of blood in his mouth only made T.K angrier. More guards appeared and T.K shot at them. His arm locked Molaka's head and he escaped through a room. He made the bomb maker descend the stairs to the back patio. A pair of guards appeared in front of them, they had walkie-talkies and were en route of answering a call. They drew their guns at T.K who pushed Molaka against one of them and shot the other - the guard also shot a bullet that missed him for centimetres. It had been his last bullet! He kicked the guards face, Molaka got up and picked up the guards gun. T.K jumped on him before he could even aim; both men fell through the door to the patio. A punch in the wrist and Molaka dropped the weapon. T.K tried to get the gun but was pushed against a gas tank. He kicked the gun out of Molaka's hand again and punched him; he picked the gun and Molaka by the backpack and headed towards a fence in the end of the squared patio.

"Hey!" he heard. The general entered the patio along with the embassy's guards. T.K turned around and pointed his gun to Molaka's head. At least ten men were behind the general, the verandas of the first floor were full of men aiming machine guns and revolvers at him.

"Don't be a fool" he said in a very accented English as he walked to him. "Put the gun down, you messed up really bad".

"Did I?" T.K asked.

He pushed Molaka and shot him in the head. Quick like bolt he shot twice at the gas tank. The explosion engulfed the patio in flames. The verandas fell with the guards in it. The men by the door were carbonized, the whole building shook once more. The general was tossed to the ground, when he got up, after seeing the destruction he turned around to see the gate opened and no sign of the blonde man or his icy eyes.


	5. What will I tell my boss?

_England, London, MI6 Headquarter_

 _M's Office_

The department's chief tampered the table with his fingers. He knew what there was to be said, but couldn't find the tip to start. In front of him, sat on the exquisite chair, agent 007 had a grin in his face. M couldn't tell if he was doing mocking him or defending his pride.

"You have seen this, haven't you?" he finally asked him, pushing the newspaper with a finger. The paper exiled the smell of freshly print ink. Much more pleasing than M's daisy jar at the end of the desk.

"I might..."

"You might! You are not sure that you blew up an embassy and killed about fifteen men?"

"It's not on the front page, so it's not a highlight" T.K responded.

"007, that unsubordinance of yours is growing a debt in me. You'll have to pay it! I start to think that I shouldn't have given you the status" M said.

"Do you regret it?"

"I start to, yes. Takeru, what will I say to my chief? What will I say to the government?"

"The same you said when the Bolivian dictatorship got assassinated" T.K pointed, always with a cold approach.

"So do you want me to put behind a desk like I did to Tai?" M whispered in a provoking tone.

"No, sir!"

"I hate to be a mommy, T.K. Having to be constantly on my agents side, patting them in the back when in fact they behave like incompetent pricks! Even a rookie should have done a better job..."

"Then you should..."

"Don't you know when to shut your mouth?" M scolded him. He was a rather young man for his position, but the few years he had in charge were enough to make some grey hairs appear and expression wrinkles.

"My chief watched a clip on the internet; the embassy had cameras that recorded you. We already have personal tech hunting it down. I had to say you were in a stressed position. I hope you are a man of faith, because you'll need to pray, and pray really hard if you don't want him to find out about the bulldozer. This cannot go along, 007. You have no authority, understood? And leaving Davis behind, shot in the shoulder, what were you thinking?"

T.K rose his eyes from the ground and looked straight in M's face.

"About you! How you wanted so much the information"

"And that's why you shot Molaka!"

T.K had no answer. M finally took a deep breath.

"Everyone deserves a second chance" he whispered. "You're a great agent I can't deny it...Clean that grin of your face!"

M opened a drawer; he took a pen and a manila folder.

"We got the contacts from the phone you retrieved from Molaka" he said. "But better was your phone's record, we were able to improve the quality: they were ordering a bomb to destroy a prototype of Masrani enterprises?"

"What's that?"

"A technology affiliated. We do not know why, we are still working on it but we know that the target was man named Alex Dimitrios. 007, do you really want to redeem yourself?"

His silence consented. M pushed the manila towards him.

"Make sure you won't abandon Davis again, ok?"


	6. Bahamas and its mermaids

_M_ I6 had agreed to the yacht's renting. The financial troubles had been felt even in the high headquarters. T.K and Davis were posing as a homosexual couple, an idea from the spiky hair man which T.K didn't even got the chance to protest. They had chosen the clear water marina of Nassau as a strategic point. They knew Molaka's target had propriety in the marina; it took them a drinking night around the bars to learn that. Davis was again busy behind the laptop; he had linked to the MI6 informatics department. Q was investigating Alex Dimitrios' transactions, soon they'd know what yacht had been bought, it's color, brand, size: everything.

The yacht's interior had a Danish decoration; T.K wondered if it had been sponsored by IKEA. He was wearing a dark blue swimming suit, outside on the stern with a pair of binoculars watching the surroundings.

"T.K" called Davis, getting out of the room. The blonde man got down and Davis started explaining him:

"El Escórpion is the name of the yacht; they have also found transactions to ghost accounts"

"Ghost accounts?"

"Yes! Alex Dimitros isn't a good guy, he's also inside some strange business. M has seen it he theorizes that Alex has business with the Organization."

T.K nodded with his head, he already had his own thoughts about it. He took his binoculars again and looked at the marina; behind him Davis murmured something about swiss bank accounts. T.K didn't take much time to find it: the yacht he was finding stood far from the others, it was not attached to the port and for what he could see, it was empty.

"Found it" he shouted to Davis who abruptly stopped talking. T.K returned to the binoculars and saw something much more appealing: a tanned body on an orange trinkini getting out of the clear blue water and hopping on the yacht's deck.

"Great, let's take some pictures and bug it" Davis said.

"Are they water proof?" T.K asked still viewing the brunette mermaid, walking on the yacht like a catwalk model.

"Yes…why?" Davis asked. He put his hand on the kaki pants' pocket and retrieved a plastic bag. T.K took them from his hand and put them inside his swimming bath.

"That's gross" Dvais protested. "What are you…" His answer came when T.K jumped in the water and started swimming.

"I hate when he does this" Davis murmured, still feeling his shoulder wound pumping.

T.K swum to the boat when he arrived, he stacked his head above the water line. His met with the woman's looking right at them, while she dried her head with the towel.

"May I help you?" she asked with a spanish accent, that made T.K's gut tingle right away.

"This is not my yacht, is it?" he asked.

"No, and I think you know that" she answered with a smile.

"I'm a bit disoriented, may I hop in".

She hesitated.

"Sure!" she said. She stretched him a hand and helped him in the deck. "Do you want to drink something".

"Yes" he said right away. "I could use a drink".

She opened the doors behind her and entered the yacht's living room. T.K followed her, even uninvited, while she was preparing him a drink at the metal meal cart, he scooped his hands inside the swimming suites and took the plastic bag. Opened it and took one of them, tuned it on and kneeled on the floor. He pressed it under the chair.

"Is everything ok?" she asked.

"Kind of! I'm just stretching from the swimming" he lied. She smiled and handed him a gin. He accepted and drank it all in a sip, it was harder than expected.

"I was hoping for a sparkling water" he chuckled. He looked back and pretended to search for his yatch. He saw Davis sitting on a chair typing on the computer and giving him a nasty look. "Yeah…I'm definitively not on my yacht. Sorry for invasion…"

"That's not a problem" she smiled back.

"May I know your name?"

"Catalina" she answered.

"Are you from the Bahamas?"

"Venezuela"

"Oh…I 'm new here, I was hoping to find a native that could show me around".

She laughed.

"You're not as smooth as you think" she giggled.

"I'm sorry" he smiled embarrassed. T.K was actually counting on it working. He finished his gin, thanked it and jumped back in the water.

"Are you staying at the hotel? The Crysantum?"

"Hummm..." he didn't know what to say.

"You may find me there…if you're still interested!"


End file.
